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Monthly Archives: June 2014

Once upon a time, three friends, Colin, Kwame and Justine, set out looking for treasure. Not quite. They weren’t children playing in the sand. They were adults who understood that treasure isn’t something you just find. It’s what you create. And they certainly knew about creativity: Colin Channer, the novelist; Kwame Dawes, the poet; and Justine Henzell, the producer of events from scratch.

So they conjured up this international literary festival and set it in an improbable location, Treasure Beach, St. Elizabeth, Jamaica. It would add a whole new dimension to Brand Jamaica! They named the festival ‘Calabash’. And they invited the world and his wife to attend. Mateys were welcome too. And admission was free. Whosoever willed could come.

But why this quirky name? Well, the festival was going to be held at Jake’s Hotel in Treasure Beach. But that’s not a single beach. It’s a string of fishing villages: Billy’s Bay, Frenchman’s Bay, Great Pedro Bay and, yes, Calabash Bay. Colin chose the name to honour the location of the festival. And calabash also suggests creativity. As we say, turning our hand to make fashion.

The hardy calabash, from both the tree and the vine, is very versatile. It has several practical and artistic uses. In many cultures of the world, the hollowed-out gourd is a water vessel. And musical instruments are also created with calabash. For both the sitar from India and the kora from West Africa, calabash is used as a resonator. So the multi-functional calabash is a brilliant image for a homegrown literary festival that includes musical performance.

‘GLOBALICIOUS’
The twelfth staging of the Calabash International Literary Festival, a month ago, was dubbed ‘globalicious’ by Kwame Dawes, the programmer for the event. And it certainly was both global and delicious. The calabash was full to the brim and running over with both literary and musical delicacies.

The writers came from twelve countries: Antigua, Barbados, Belarus, England, India, Ireland, Jamaica, Kenya, Nigeria, Trinidad and Tobago, Scotland and the USA. And the musical performers were from Haiti, Jamaica, the UK and the USA.

For me, the most engaging writer/reader was Jamaica Kincaid. She “shell down di place”, as one of my friends put it. We’re now so attuned to the culture of the gun that excellence in all spheres of life is celebrated with a gun salute – whether verbal or literal. A real pity! Blame it on the military and all those Hollywood movies that big up gun violence.

A very close second was Salman Rushdie who turned out to be quite different from what I expected. He was very cool; not at all stuck up. As another of my wicked friends said, “nothing like a fatwa to keep you real”. After the festival, I stayed on for a few days at Jake’s. And the young man who carried my bags announced with quite a flourish that Salman Rushdie had stayed in that very cottage. I must admit I felt like a groupie.

Then I was so looking forward to hearing Nguigi wa Thiong’o read. He’s one of the stalwarts of the anti-colonial war on the African continent. Unfortunately, his daughter, Wanjiku, stole the show. Literally. She read for forty-five minutes, instead of her allotted twenty. And her brother Mukoma read for thirty minutes. So the Big Man had to be cut off soon after he began. And it was such a powerful story he’d started to tell about coming home from boarding school to find that his village had disappeared.

OPEN MIKE, MAIN STAGE

One of the highlights of the festival always is the Open Mike. There are so many entertaining surprises. Like the farmer and fisherman whose stage name is “The Incredible Steel”! He rode 48 miles on his bicycle from Jerusalem, Santa Cruz to perform his poem, “The Voice”, in tribute to Tessanne Chin. He got a standing ovation. Then there was the cosmetologist, Venise Samuels, who performed a brilliant poem about unconscionable taxation. So much talent!

The only disappointing aspect of Calabash is the lack of comfortable accommodations. Of course, there’s very little the organisers of the festival can do about that. After all, Treasure Beach, is a fishing village. But some of the people in the rental business have rather grand names for very basic lodgings. ‘Villa’ is a most pretentious word for a small four-bedroom house. And there are ‘resorts’ that bear absolutely no resemblance to their upscale namesakes. All you can say in their favour is that they are a last resort if you absolutely can’t find anywhere else to stay.

But all you really need for Calabash is a place to crash. If you try to keep up with the programme, you would go non-stop from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 a.m. the next day! And even if there are not too many villas and resorts in the fishing village, there is always the sea. It’s a magnificent backdrop for the main stage. I can’t imagine that there’s any literary festival anywhere on Earth that has a better setting. It’s all in the magical calabash.

Two spelling systems are used for the Jamaican language below. The first, which I call ‘chaka-chaka’, is based on English spelling. The second, ‘prapa-prapa’, is the specialist system designed by the Jamaican linguist Frederic Cassidy. It has been updated by the Jamaican Language Unit at the University of the West Indies, Mona. After the two Jamaican versions, there’s an English translation.

An mi no like how Babsy a point finger pon Lisa. Dis ya one a no fi Lisa fault. JFJ dis slip een di sex education undercover. Di said same ting coulda did happen wen Babsy a minister fi yute. So shi fi memba seh a no party politics wi a defend. A di pikni dem. An a dem vulnerable fi true!

Last Wednesday, the Gleaner’s front page carried a huge headline: ‘Gomes goes’. And I wondered, “Where has she gone?” Actually, she hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d resigned from the board of Jamaicans for Justice (JFJ). Cho! Whoever wrote that headline caught me with alliteration. That’s one of those highfalutin English words that come from Latin.

Alliteration simply means you’re making style. You pick a couple of words that start with the same sound and join them up. Gomes goes. They sound nice together. It doesn’t matter if the niceness is confusing. And the second sound in those two words is identical. That’s the o. And that’s assonance. But let me cut the literature lesson. Back to politics. Why did Gomes resign?

You might think she was ashamed about the back-door sex education programme that Jamaicans for Justice let loose on the children in the six private homes that are supposed to be taking care of abandoned minors. Not at all! As I understand it, Gomes went because she was vexed with the other members of the board of Jamaicans for Justice. They made the mistake of apologising for the unapproved sex education programme that the children were exposed to.

Ee ee now, Spanish Town! You don’t know what that means? You’re forgetting your culture! That’s what you say when someone gets into trouble. And you flash your fingers to show that they’re going to be beaten. ‘Spanish Town’ stands for prison. And that’s metonymy, another literary device. I’m sorry for Jamaicans for Justice. They’re in big trouble with the Caribbean Vulnerable Communities Coalition (CVC).

LOTS OF BACKING

I wonder about those ‘Vulnerable Communities’. What does ‘vulnerable’ really mean? ‘Vulnerable’ is another one of those English words that come from Latin. ‘Vulnus’ means ‘wound’. And ‘vulnerable’ means it’s easy for people to abuse you. Like that poor man who was raped by those vile men. Rumour has it that he has killed himself. I only hope it’s not true.

Carolyn Gomes and her colleagues who are defending ‘Vulnerable Communities’ are not at all vulnerable. They’re big and bad. And they’ve got lots of backing. Locally and internationally. Many powerful people with lots of money are defending the Caribbean Vulnerable Communities Coalition. What a thing! And you must remember that it’s CVC that funded the JFJ sex education programme for the children’s homes. And, as you know, he who who pays the piper calls the tune.

So Jamaicans for Justice don’t have a voice. They had no right to apologise for the sex education scandal. Carolyn Gomes argued that they’d apologised prematurely. They should have waited and taken advice. And that’s why she walked out. She’s left JFJ. But she’s the a head cook and bottle-washer for CVC. Six of one, half dozen of the other!

And I don’t like the way Babsy is pointing fingers at Lisa. This one really isn’t Lisa’s fault. JFJ just slipped in the sex education programme undercover. The very same thing could have happened when Babsy was the minister of youth. So she should remember that we’re not defending party politics. It’s the children. They are ones who are truly vulnerable!

There’s a very vulnerable group of women who don’t seem to be on the agenda of Dr Carolyn Gomes and her Caribbean Vulnerable Communities (CVC) Coalition.

According to their website, CVC focuses on “Caribbean populations who are especially vulnerable to HIV infection or often forgotten in access to treatment and health-care programmes. These groups include men who have sex with men, sex workers, people who use drugs, orphans and other children made vulnerable by HIV, migrant populations, ex-prisoners, and youth in especially difficult circumstances”.

Since sexy acronyms are now fashionable, let’s call this forgotten group WSMSMW: women who have sex with men who have sex with men and women. Yes, it’s a mouthful. But it’s only words. It could be far worse. There’s a big difference between WSMSMW and MSM. Obviously, men who have sex with men know what they’re doing. By contrast, most women who have sex with men who have sex with men and women are totally ignorant of the fact that they are in a very messy situation.

In this instance, ignorance is definitely not bliss. It can be deadly. These vulnerable women may suspect that they are sharing their partner with a matey. But they naively assume that the matey is a woman. There are some women who do have their doubts about their husband’s sexuality. But they are afraid to face the truth: Ah so im lie an wicked? No, sah! By the time these women discover that their matey is a man – if they’re so lucky – it’s much too late for informed consent. Their partners have robbed them of their right to choose; or, much worse, infected them with HIV!

PERFECTLY PAIRED

Most men who have sex with men and women (MSMW) deliberately and methodically deceive women in order to pass for straight. The woman becomes a front or a beard, as it is more popularly known, protecting the MSMW from exposure. In some cases, the role play is consensual. The wife is a lesbian and the husband is gay, and they choose to be each other’s beard. Like Jack Sprat, who could eat no fat, and his wife, who could eat no lean, the gay man and the lesbian are perfectly paired. There’s no fighting over beef.

I have a lot of respect for MSM who don’t bother with the fiction of getting married to a woman. Disdaining pretence, these courageous men just brazen it out. They don’t hide under the frock tail of women. They accept themselves for who they are and just gwaan bout dem business. And they take the necessary precautions to protect their health. I do sympathise with vulnerable young men who are embarrassed about buying condoms and lubricants. As a teenager, I was quite distressed about buying sanitary pads. Everybody in the shop knew it was that time of the month.

But you grew up and just accepted the course of nature. Admittedly, this is often much harder for MSM. All the same, when you hear the propaganda spouted by Dr Gomes’ Coalition, you would think that no MSM are sensible enough to take care of their health.

This is the way the Coalition’s argument goes: The buggery law stigmatises MSM. Therefore, they are afraid to buy sexually sensitive health-care products. Furthermore, criminalised MSM are unable to get medical care because they are afraid their doctors will report their illegal sexual activities. The only solution is to repeal the buggery law.

SHOCK OF THE FIST

Like many clever Jamaican higglers, Dr Gomes’ Coalition is trying to ‘marry’ goods of unequal appeal. You know the trick: If you want scarce produce, you have to also buy goods that are in plentiful supply. Everybody wants treatment for HIV/AIDS to be readily available for all. But not everybody wants the buggery law to be repealed. So the price we have to pay for HIV/AIDS care is repeal of the stigmatising law.

I have no objection to getting rid of the law. What consenting adults do in the privacy of their home is none of my business. Nor should it be the business of the State.

But the stigma associated with anal sex will not magically disappear once the buggery law is repealed. The Jamaican word for MSM vividly expresses the disgust associated with anal sex. The body part stands for the whole man. Some sexual practices are quite distasteful to the uninitiated. But that’s not a good reason for criminalising them.

The first time I heard about fisting, I was alarmed. A man makes a fist and puts it up another man’s anus, all the way to the elbow! I quickly recovered from the shock when I realised I didn’t need to empathise with the fisted anus. It wasn’t mine.

In some cultures, MSM don’t practise anal sex. They use their thighs. Remember how, as children, we would bend our elbow, squeeze and there would be a fairly good imitation of female labia! Same principle with the thighs. There’s no fooling around in the anal canal. The female partners of these MSMW do not risk HIV infection.

Having failed to acknowledge the special needs of vulnerable WSMSMW in the Caribbean, Dr Gomes and her Coalition now need to take extra lessons on inclusiveness from Professor Brendan Bain.

I recently heard an alarming interpretation of the first line of Bob Marley’s song Who the Cap Fit.

The proverbial statement, ‘man to man is so unjust’, is now being decoded as a condemnation of male homosexuals. Or, to use the politically correct term, men who have sex with men (MSM). Incidentally, the ‘homo’ in ‘homosexual’ does not mean ‘man’. It’s not Latin; it’s Greek. And it means ‘same’.

So, technically, ‘homosexual’ refers to both men and women; and, more recently, to all other genders who have sex with each other. These days, sexuality is not a straight-forward business at all. Queer sex is not always a simple case of ‘same’ sex. Some sexual combinations cross multiple lines. And new sexual positions require sophisticated acrobatic skills – both literally and psychologically.

Bob Marley knew his words could be distorted. In an interview published in Everybody’s Magazine in 1981, this is what he said about the Kaya album: “You have to play it and get your own inspiration. For every song have a different meaning to a man. Sometimes I sing a song, and when people explain it to me, I am astonished by their interpretation.”

Some inspired interpretations make absolutely no sense. There’s no evidence in Who the Cap Fit to support the ‘same-sex’ interpretation of that opening line. The song is not about sexuality. It focuses on trust, hypocrisy and deception. Admittedly, these issues do come up in sexual relationships across the board. But the song is not about condemning men who have sex with men.

IRRATIONAL HOMOPHOBIA

Jamaica is back in the news for our irrational homophobia, as evidenced in that astonishing misinterpretation of Marley’s song. UK Channel 4 has done an exposé on outcast youths who are living underground. Here’s an excerpt from the promo for the documentary which aired last Friday:

“Jamaica has a reputation for intolerance of homosexuality. Male gay sex is punishable by 10 years’ hard labour and violent hostility is entrenched in the island’s culture. Unreported World meets one group of gay and transgender people who are now living in a gully, which is usually designed to carry flood water and rubbish from the city.

“It’s hot, crowded, infested and filthy. But it’s the only place these 25 people are able to call home. There are no facilities: cooking and washing-up are done in the gutter. Water comes from a broken pipe under a road bridge. And it’s not in a poor part of town, but in the middle of New Kingston, the capital’s business district.”

This is a complete disgrace. Not on the homeless who have taken refuge in the gully; but on all us who live somewhere! We cannot self-righteously keep on singing the same old Sankey from the Book of Leviticus. We have to move past the rhetoric of abomination and change our inhumane attitudes to queer people. We cannot continue to cast them into outer darkness.

UNJUST GAY-RIGHTS ACTIVISTS

We also have to challenge unjust gay-rights activists when they misuse their collective power and victimise others. The recent termination of the contract of Professor Brendan Bain, director of the Caribbean HIV/AIDS Regional Training (CHART) initiative, is a complicated case of competing rights.

The press release issued by the Office of the Vice-Chancellor of the University of the West Indies states: “The issue in question arose about two years ago in a high-profile case in Belize in which Caleb Orozco, a gay man in Belize, challenged the constitutionality of an 1861 law that criminalises men having sex with men (MSM).

“Professor Brendan Bain provided a statement on behalf of a group of churches seeking to retain the 1861 law. Many authorities familiar with the brief presented believe that Professor Bain’s testimony supported arguments for retention of the law, thereby contributing to the continued criminalisation and stigmatisation of MSM. This opinion is shared by the lesbian, gay and other groups who are served by CHART.”

I speculate that many of Professor Bain’s detractors have not read his now-infamous statement. There, he clearly affirms that he was “given no instructions by any party”. He makes no reference to the contested law. Professor Bain gives well-documented scientific evidence on public-health issues relating specifically to men who have sex with men.

The UWI press release comes to a disturbing conclusion: ” … It has become increasingly evident that Professor Bain has lost the confidence and support of a significant sector of the community which the CHART programme is expected to reach, including the loss of his leadership status in PANCAP [Pan Caribbean Partnership Against HIV& AIDS], thereby undermining the ability of this programme to effectively deliver on its mandate.” That’s not a good reason for firing Professor Bain.

I do support repeal of the Belize law that criminalises “carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any person or animal”. But I am appalled by the decision of the UWI administration to bow to belligerent gay-rights activists, bringing down disgrace on a distinguished academic who has done so much to protect the health of MSM. Man to man is so unjust. Who di cap fit, mek dem wear it.

My computer had a stroke a few months ago and I’ve been in denial. I’ve finally accepted the fact that my old iMac will never be the same again. Its hard drive has become very, very soft. So I bought a new computer and I’m back in business. I hope you enjoyed my first post about driving conditions on Jamaican roads.

Damion Crawford’s “unfortunate” apology is quite inadequate. He takes no responsibility for his words. He “got carried away”. I suppose he was possessed by evil spirits (both JLP and PNP) and ended up speaking in tongues: “Yuh suppose to can look pon a man an” sey a PNP dat enuh, or yuh look pon a woman an’ sey a PNP dat. Some a unnu haffi have on orange fi wi know, cause unnu lifestyle come een like a dutty Labourite.”

Under the influence of the spirits, Crawford highlights a problem that is particularly troubling for politicians who can never be sure exactly how many sheep they have in their pen. Jamaican voters are a slick crew. They follow you up and down on the campaign trial. They wear your T-shirts. They eat and drink with you and, behind, they don’t just ‘susu pon you’, as Bob Marley warned. It gets worse than that. Many of your apparent followers are not even registered to vote. And even if they are, there’s no guarantee they’re actually going to vote for you. They know they’re free agents.

This is a lesson many politicians, both JLP and PNP, have had to learn the hard way. Don’t trust the size of the crowd! So Damion Crawford’s ‘inspired’ words can be interpreted as a pastoral altar call, pleading with his flock for integrity. If you start to kiss your teeth at the analogy, just substitute ‘Christian’ for ‘PNP’, ‘heathen’ for ‘Labourite’ and ‘church clothes’ for ‘orange’: “Yuh suppose to can look pon a man an’ sey a Christian dat enuh, or yuh look pon a woman and sey a Christian dat. Some a unnu haffi have on church clothes fi wi know, cause unnu lifestyle come een like a dutty heathen.”

OUTWARD APPEARANCE

My reformulation of Damion Crawford’s damning words is not intended to let him off the hook. Instead, I want to underscore just how foolish his presumptions are. Neither ‘orange’ nor ‘church clothes’ is a sign of character. A wo/man’s true colours are not the ones s/he wears. As Jesus said, “You will know them by their fruit” (Matthew 7:26, International Standard Version). Politician or pastor, Crawford does not seem to understand that outward appearance is not to be trusted. Dreadlocks don’t signify Rasta. And some baldheads are steadily trodding on the path to Zion.

Another troubling issue is Crawford’s assumption that ‘PNP’ and ‘Labourite’ are permanent identities, fixed by your DNA: you are who you vote for. This conviction sustains tribal politics in Jamaica. Voters are not expected to use their intelligence, selecting the best political representatives in any election cycle. Well, best as far as you can tell. Instead, like a robot, you should simply vote generically for your party, i.e., yourself. Complete lunacy!

These days, it’s so easy to get caught up in tribalism. If it’s not politics, it’s religion. We barricade ourselves in garrisons: we and them; saved and damned; uptown and downtown; queer and straight; green and orange; ‘dutty Labourite’ and ‘plyboard-an-zinc PNP’. (In this instance, Crawford appears to be an equal-opportunity chastiser, talking out of both sides of his mouth). Once you choose your camp, it’s not so easy to change sides. Worse, if you don’t choose a side, you run the risk of being shot at from all angles.

CRAWFORD’S TRUE COLOURS

Robert Montague

JLP Chairman Robert Montague had every right to demand an apology from Damion Crawford for that ‘dutty’ throw-word. He couldn’t allow Crawford to just dish the dirt and get away with it. Montague had to stand up for principle. But it was also a question of party pride. And Montague coudn’t resist the temptation to be tribalist. He had to draw the class card.

In a press release issued on May 27, Senator Montague stated, “We know that generally when the PNP says they love the poor it’s about politics and not development, [sic] but now Minister Crawford has shown his true colours, too. The very same classist behaviour he accuses others of, [sic] is clearly in his heart if the card he draws to make a point, [sic] is one of the worst classist phrases to ever be brought by the PNP into the politics of Jamaica.”

The JLP equivalent of ‘dutty Labourite’ is ‘classist PNP’. Unfortunately, in the tracing match of tribal politics, ‘classist’ just doesn’t have the sting of ‘dutty’. And the reason is quite obvious. ‘Classist’ is English (from Latin); and ‘dutty’ is hard-core Jamaican, with all the authority of a big, phat bad-word. One could easily mistake ‘classist’ for a compliment. It sounds so stush. Not like ‘dutty’.

According to the Dictionary of Jamaican English, the noun ‘dutty’ (doti) comes from the Twi language of Ghana. Its primary meaning is ‘soil, earth, clay’. The dictionary makes it clear that ‘there is no necessary sense of uncleanness”. But it concedes that the meaning of the word has been influenced by English ‘dirty’. And, in fact, the second meaning of ‘dutty’ is ‘excrement, dung’.

As adjective, ‘dutty’ has come to mean ‘dirty’. But it’s much more than physical uncleanliness. In the Jamaican vernacular, ‘dutty’ covers a host of sins. Classism is dutty. Sexism is also dutty. I’m surprised nobody has challenged Crawford’s sexist view of women as lazy predators, waiting for Friday to telephone men for money. That’s a whole other load of dutty.